


Look But Don't

by voleuse



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-04-30
Updated: 2005-04-30
Packaged: 2017-10-04 12:22:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's never been one for playing it safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Look But Don't

**Author's Note:**

> Post-X1.

It's possible the club might _not_ be hotter than hell, but from everything Faith's been told, hell's actually less with the fire and more with the torture. Unless the torture involves fire, of course, but either way, the club's still pretty damn hot. Like the rip off your clothes and douse yourself in tequila sort of hot.

Which is why the girl with the gloves catches her attention.

Between the humidity outside, and the press of the crowd on the floor, Faith can barely breathe, but the girl's wearing not only gloves, but sleeves and stockings, too. And she's not even sweating, not even when the guy behind her grinds impossibly close, curves to whisper in her ear.

The girl nods, and he makes his way out of the crowd, and the girl's alone.

But not, Faith decides, for long.

Faith slams the last of her drink back, licks a drop of vodka from her thumb, and twists, thrusts, twirls her way onto the dance floor.

The girl is in the center of the melee, and seems to have established a perimeter of space through sheer force of isolation.

Faith crosses the boundary without a second thought and, from behind, slides a hand over the girl's hip. "Hey." She's startled at the cool of the girl's clothes. "Where'd your friend go?"

The girl looks at Faith over her shoulder. Raises an eyebrow.

Faith trails her other hand up the length of the girl's sleeve. "C'mon," she says, presses her breasts against the girl's back. Lets the hand on her hip slip a little lower.

The girl arches back against her, laughs low. "He wanted to get some air."

"He your boyfriend?" Faith slides her hand up, lets her palm graze the side of the girl's breast.

She sighs. "Kind of."

Faith pulls the girl against her, marvels again at the amounts of skin not evident. "C'mon," she repeats.

The girl hesitates. Looks around the floor, as if she's being watched, then nods.

Faith grabs her by the hand, fingers slipping against fabric for a second, and tugs. Leads the girl off the floor, back and up, until they're ensconced behind one of the many speakers that line the room. The bass line thrums, pounds against them, and Faith feels it in her bones.

The girl leans against the speaker, lets her eyes drift shut. "My name's Marie," she shouts into Faith's ear.

"I'm Faith," she shouts back, and Marie's eyes drop to her lips.

When she leans in for a kiss, however, Marie jerks away, panic in her eyes.

"What?" Faith asks. "Never done this with a girl before?"

Marie shakes her head. "Never with anyone, before." She bites her lip. "I can't kiss you."

Faith smirks. "Let me guess--your boyfriend wouldn't like it?"

Marie looks away.

Faith looks at her, takes in the flush of her cheeks, the arch of her hips. The cleavage exposed by the cut of her blouse, and the outline of her nipples through the fabric. Licks her lips, and makes a decision.

"Hey," she says, bracing a hand against the speaker, just outside of Marie's shoulder. "Would your boyfriend like this?"

And she presses in, edging a leg between Marie's thighs, pushing her breasts against Marie's chest, and very deliberately averting her face.

Marie gasps, so sharply Faith can hear it above the pound of the speakers, and she takes that as permission to continue.

Slides a hand between them, cups one of Marie's breasts, and bends her head. Opens her mouth to breathe hot, through the fabric, and Marie arches, writhes, buries a hand in Faith's hair and clutches tightly. Faith bears the same attention to the other breast, lets the fabric dampen under her tongue.

She twists her hips, feels Marie hot against her thigh, and she lifts her leg a little higher, laughs when Marie's head snaps back, when her eyes widen and her jaw drops.

Yanks Marie's skirt up, presses a hand against the rasp of her nylons, the silk of her panties, and strokes, delves as best she can.

And Marie jerks, shudders, shrieks a little bit, though it's barely audible over the music. Grasps Faith's arms hard enough to leave bruises, if Faith bruised more easily.

"Damn." Faith straightens, rotates her wrist. "You really haven't done this before, have you?"

Marie blushes, then looks over Faith's shoulder, and a guilty look crosses her face.

Faith turns, sees the guy from earlier, making his way through the crowd. "Right."

As he reaches them, she rolls her eyes at his worried expression. Shoots a sly glance at Marie, then grabs the guy by the collar, pulls his ear to her lips.

"Can't keep her satisfied?"

He twitches, takes a long, evaluative look at Marie. At the sweat beading her forehead, the disheveled blouse, the skirt kilted high on her thighs. His mouth forms a perfect "O," and Faith laughs.

She turns to reach for Marie, run her hands up those gloves again, to her shoulders, and down, and down. Bends her head to brush her lips against Marie's, lightning-quick, and feels a jolt like electricity, like adrenaline.

"Thanks," she says to Marie, and lets go.

"For what?" Marie asks, falling back against the speaker.

But Faith's already walking away.


End file.
